


I love you like the sunrise, the pillow under my head

by bubblegumcherrypop



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, M/M, Plotless Fluff, Referenced Self Harming, relationship study?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25709197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumcherrypop/pseuds/bubblegumcherrypop
Summary: an immovable object and an unstoppable force colliding didn’t come with any explosions nor theatrics; it was quiet, and whatever they created in their collision was a home.hirugami sachirou and hoshiumi kourai after practice.- hiruhoshi, familiarity, and comfort
Relationships: Hirugami Sachirou/Hoshiumi Kourai
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	I love you like the sunrise, the pillow under my head

Kamomedai’s gym was a place of comfort to Kourai. During the afternoon heat with the sound of balls smashing to the ground, shouting and sneakers squeaking flooding Kourai’s ears - the organised, never-changing passion around him always gave Kourai a sense of peace. It was a place of comfort at night, too, when it was almost eerily quiet, and his breath seemed to echo against the gym’s emptiness. There were no thuds of teammates dropping to the ground after spiking a toss, no balls ricocheting off of sore wrists, and no “left!”-s, nor any “straighten up your hands!” 

There was comfort in the scent of rubber and the blinding ceiling lights, and there was comfort in the silence that existed within them after everybody had left to make their way home. 

Kourai stood as the sting in his right palm fizzled out from the final serve he’d hit and looked out to the windows near the ceiling. It was still fairly light out despite it being past 5pm, now. A glance back to his hand, and a glance to the ball he’d hit. Kourai went over to pick it up, simply taking in the sound of his own breathing and his shoes against the squeaky ground. 

Once more, comforting. Familiar. 

As a person, Kourai felt no restraint to his more extreme emotions and has no trouble expressing them - whether it’s excitement of irritation, desires or declarations. But it was nice to be at peace. It’s not something groundbreaking - like he’s suddenly been voided of emotion or was exhausted - but just as he felt everything else in his life. Largely; but there was nothing  _ to  _ express but radiating out the calmness he felt. 

Kourai picked up the ball and palmed it. Familiar, familiar. Rubber, smooth. Fleeting thoughts in the back of his mind were all, but Kourai let himself be immersed in the somber atmosphere of the gym and the feeling of the volleyball in his hand. Volleyball was a sport where you can’t hold the ball, you connect with it momentarily, so holding it always felt rather odd. (To Kourai, at least.) He tossed it into the trolley by the wall. 

And with the soft thud of the ball landing above the others in the trolley, there was another breach of silence. 

“Kourai-kun, you good to wrap up?”

A breach of silence doesn’t equate to a breach of comfort. Sachirou’s voice didn’t startle Kourai nor impede - but was a gentle entering. Kourai gave a hum in return, hopping to the gym doors and down the steps in one jump. The hallway was dimly lit, smelt  _ damp _ , and felt a little chilly. Sachirou weaved his fingers in between Kourai’s like it was the most natural thing in the world - and it  _ was  _ and  _ is -  _ and all that cold dissipated just like always. Sachirou was warm, Sachirou was comfortable. Sachirou was familiar. 

(It didn’t mean the way Sachirou would rub his thumb firmly in circles against Kourai’s hand made his chest light up any less, though. 

Intimacy was familiar - romantically… Just more newly-so)

“Did you do what you needed to?” Kourai asked. 

“Mhmm,” Sachirou looked ahead and nodded. “Sensei was still in the teachers office, so letting her know about my late assignment was fine. She said it was okay. Then I just went to get my bag from class since I left it there and dumped it in the club room.”

“I see,” Kourai gave his own nod. “I see. I’m glad you got here just as I finished my last serving drills!” 

“How’re they coming along, by the way?” Sachirou asked, and at this point they’d stopped walking to converse. Kourai half-sat on a table (presumably moved out into the hallway for a student who’d forgotten their kit to do work, instead) and Sachirou let himself lean against the stone wall. He tilted his head to the side and offered a warm smile. 

“Awesome, the best! I’m getting stronger by the day, Sachirou!” Kourai pumped his fist with a toothy grin. 

“It’s good that you’ve gotten over the two you missed today in the three on three.”

“Oi, Sa-!”

“Pulling your leg. Pulling your leg.” Sachirou raised his hands in surrender and laughed, “you’re awesome. So awesome. I’d never slander our star’s name,” 

Kourai jabbed Sachirou in the stomach. “You’d better not!” 

“You wound me by even assuming I’d ever do such a thing, Kourai-kun~.” A smirk plastered its way onto Sachirou’s face as he draped his arms over - now stood up - Kourai’s shoulders and Kourai’s gritted teeth faded, he chuckled as he let out a breath, leaning his body into Sachirou’s and peering up to him. Kourai inhaled through his nose the scent of his boyfriend. He smelt of _classroom_ and faintly of… Cleanliness in general. Soap. Sachirou must’ve showered earlier, back when he’d finished practice for the day. 

“You smell good,” Kourai said, blunt, shoving his head into Sachirou’s chest. “I missed you.” 

Sachirou let the brief surprise of Kourai’s abruptness melt in the way he secured his forearms around Kourai’s shoulders. Kourai was always matter-of-fact - anything  _ less _ than outright, sappy lines from him would take Sachirou more by surprise. 

“Love you,” Sachirou muttered, only to be met with a crushing feeling in his torso where Kourai’s arms were around him. Well, crushing him, in a sudden, tightening embrace of death. “Kourai…” voice straining, “-kun…??” Sachirou could only scratch out, as he was lifted off the floor then promptly  _ dropped _ and released, Kourai’s arms gently snaking around his back to rest his hands on Sachirou’s shoulders. 

“I love you too!” Kourai grinned, peering up to Sachirou teeth positively baring. Sachirou took a deep breath to regain his ability to breathe, and exhaled it all in a chuckle, dropping his forehead down onto the top of Kourai’s as he did so. Inhaling the scent of Kourai’s hair, Sachirou melted into the embrace. The slight smell of pure  _ boy _ \- sweat, musk - and whatever shampoo Kourai had used last night were all so  _ familiar _ , yet Sachirou’s heart pounded and raced in the same way it always did. Perhaps that was a comfort in itself. 

The hallway was silent, still, the wall behind Sachirou was cold and there was a draft from the volleyball court doors; but yet, bodies interlocked, despite the fact they should get moving soon, they stayed, and it was warm. But yet, they were  _ home.  _

Sachirou lifted his head and tilted up Kourai’s chin with his fingers, dipping down as they met each other halfway for a kiss. It was brief, it was only a pressing of lips, but it was  _ them _ pretending as if they weren’t in an absent school hallway, as if everything else had disappeared, as if they were the only people on earth. 

There have been questions about what would happen if an immovable object and unstoppable force were to collide. And, Sachirou supposes,  _ nothing _ would happen. There would be no theatrics, no explosions, nor like two trains colliding at full speed. But instead -  _ it would be calm. It would be quiet.  _

And to Sachirou called immovable with a star deemed unstoppable, that’d be the only conclusion he could come to. Kourai is boisterous, a pure  _ force _ , always yelling and loud but  _ shining  _ and  _ inspiring  _ anybody who would look to him. However, in this moment, in this moment with his lips a centimetre away from Kourai’s, his forehead leant against Kourai’s and his arms around Kourai’s, this star wasn’t blinding but was silent and  _ still  _ and Sachirou stared right at him. 

Sachirou often found himself staring at Kourai.  _ How could I not? _ \- sits on the tip of his tongue. Kourai was an absolute pleasure to watch play, shine and he was a pleasure to see  _ grow.  _ It was a pleasure to listen to Kourai declare himself worthy, to listen to Kourai refute interviewers, even to listen to Kourai argue and bicker with Gao, or Nozawa onoccasion. 

Maybe those experiences were why Sachirou loved observing Kourai when it was just the two of them, also. The way the pompous Kourai spoke calmly to Sachirou and giggled and smiled softly - the way the hot headed Kourai would still quarrel with him when he made snide comments but would laugh afterwards, jokingly punching him weakly. The way Kourai would let him run his fingers through his hair whilst he sat in between his legs, or not even flinching or saying anything if Sachirou were to grab his hand, pick him up or pat his shoulder. 

The way Kourai just seemed  _ at home  _ around him, like being with Sachirou was a psychological cue for Kourai to simply settle. Sachirou supposed, too, that an unstoppable force would not come to a  _ halt _ when met with an immovable object, but, with who he trusts and has seen him weak and who he has also seen weak, will keep charging strong but with the faith that  _ yes,  _ he’s  _ met.  _ Not by an equally as unstoppable star, but mutually strong faith. 

Sachirou held Kourai’s face in his hands, pressed a kiss to his forehead and ruffled his hair. Kourai raised an eyebrow.

“You stink, go shower.”

“Oi-!” 

  
  
  
  
  


Kourai disliked having wet hair. Among all the things he did and went through daily, this was definitely among the worst. The way it dripped onto his neck felt  _ weird _ and  _ wrong  _ and  _ gross -  _ but then again, maybe he just needed a haircut. He was prompt to dangle his towel around his neck as he entered the locker room to where Sachirou was waiting for him, leant against the lockers. The lightbulb in the room was dim, and it smelt of hotspray and sneakers. Some lockers were open. 

“Hey hey,” Kourai greeted, sitting himself down on the floor to be met with a quiet chuckle from Sachirou. 

“I’ll never get used to seeing you with your hair down,” he teased, but looked to Kourai almost adoringly, head tilted, smiling. Kourai didn’t know how to respond, he hoped how he stared at Sachirou in return didn’t come off as hostile. He hummed and averted his gaze to the ground, spreading his legs out to near-splits and firmly running his calloused and shower-warmed hands down his thighs. 

_ Ah _ . Felt good, Kourai remarked, internally, as he let out a long, sharp breath, leaning over to stretch. Cool off stretches were something Kourai loved and were among his favourite daily things. (Ironic, really, as he often did them with that awful dripping hair.) The burn and stretch of his muscles was reassurance, a familiar pain, and simply felt good. Against the ground that was fairly cold, it was always so refreshing against his hot skin. Although a simple, everyday and necessary task and although Kourai naturally appeared to be a thrill seeking, ever-looking-forward creature, he took pleasure in certain everyday things. The ones that would remain unchanging. 

Like Sachirou’s footsteps as he approached Kourai, kneeling down in front of him and opening a box of bandages. As Sachirou wordlessly took his hand from his thigh, Kourai sank back and exerted all possible pressure from his body into the hard ground. His rib cage rose up and down with the winding of tape around his calloused and bruised fingers. Silence danced in the air, weaving complete solace between the two albeit the dim location. 

But did the place matter when Sachirou’s skilled fingers laced tape around Kourai’s? It didn’t, nor did it when Sachirou secured the tape around the final finger that needed it, grabbing Kourai’s entire hand to yank his upper body back up. Kourai’s head dangled, looking to the floor with his loose hair falling so  _ pretty  _ over his head as he chuckled a “thanks,” and looked back up to Sachirou. The lightbulb in the locker room was half dead and wasn’t even that bright when new. Yet it dyed Kourai’s hair a warm hue, light frolicking across the damp plain. Kourai’s eyes were bright and his cheeks were pink, and Sachirou couldn’t help thinking about how this was a sight he’d never get used to. 

Again, the pounding of his chest and the way his eyes leaked with adoration, unchanging, could be classed as a comfort. However, Sachirou was simply in love - the butterflies in his stomach permanent guests. 

Kourai closed his eyes as Sachirou’s hands found their way to the towel draping on Kourai’s neck, lightly leading his face towards his own before their lips found each other. Sachirou’s arms snaked around Kourai’s shoulders and a hand found itself in his hair, and Kourai leant his upper-half into the kiss, placing one hand on Sachirou’s knee and the other on his shoulder to support himself as he tilted his head the opposite way to Sachirou’s. 

Sachirou couldn’t help but exhale into the kiss, he was almost melting. Why, whenever Kourai was so  _ gentle  _ with him there was nothing more endearing _.  _ With the hand in Kourai’s hair, Sachirou nudged him further in and Kourai didn’t flinch, instead easing himself in. It was soft, it was so soft, soft and… Wet, soft and wet and breathy as they worked each other’s lips. Not intensely, but as if they had all the time in the world to go at  _ this  _ pace,  _ their _ pace. 

Kourai relished in how Sachirou’s hand felt in his hair. It was rather rough and three of his fingers were bandaged but his fingernails were trimmed, as usual, and was warm and it was the same hand he loved holding more than any volleyball. The only good thing about his long hair being loosely down was the feel of Sachirou’s hands in it. Whether that was his fingers idly running through it or his hand edging Kourai’s head further into his lips - he loved Sachirou’s hands. 

He loved Sachirou’s hands, he loved Sachirou’s mouth - especially when it was on Kourai’s neck like right now, planting deep butterfly kisses down him. 

“You taste like shower, Kourai.”

“Huh? I bet I taste great!”

“Never said you didn’t,”

And it was like this every time. Sachirou looked up to Kourai with a smile whilst Kourai scowled before laughing and diving onto him, knocking him onto the ground and burying his head into Sachirou’s neck - almost nuzzling him as Sachirou lay on the ground with Kourai on top of him. 

Kourai was never jealous of Sachirou’s size, but ever since they confessed their mutual feelings Kourai saw Sachirou’s height as simply a bigger target to love. Evident with how he nuzzled his nose into Sachirou’s neck before kissing his cheek, his lips and then his neck again, as Sachirou squirmed and laughed underneath him since his neck was sensitive. And although ticklish, who was Sachirou to reject Kourai when he was positively showering him with kisses, with his hands on Sachirou’s hips, almost daring to skirt under his t-shirt?

But Kourai sat up, lazily straddling Sachirou and grabbed his arm gently, pressing their hands together. Kourai’s hand ran down Sachirou’s and down his wrist, where Kourai’s thumb idly ran circles over healed scars only noticeable to those who know they’re there. Words stayed lodged in Sachirou’s throat, and he almost felt the need to uphold the silence, as if it was fragile in this moment. But then again, this was Kourai, who’s hand radiated such warmth and was so soft. Intimacy in the form of joint hands and touches were a love letter between them, before it was even in a romantic light. 

How Kourai’s hand once grabbed Sachirou’s when he was scraping his knuckles against a jagged wall, drawing blood, and how Kourai’s fingers patched him up afterwards. Sachirou’s hands on Kourai’s when helping adjust his blocking form after school, Kourai taping Sachirou’s fingers, their hands touching whilst they both stroked Sachirou’s dog, a pat to the back, hands in hair, hands cleaning up scars since even though Kourai’s words changed Sachirou’s entire mindset, his then-newly formed self destructive needs didn’t fade overnight. 

But many nights passed. Kourai dragged his hand back up to Sachirou’s. Many nights passed and their solace in each other bloomed into tenderness and a home and somewhere  _ safe.  _

The sound of their breaths filled the room. Soft but heavy, looming with words that didn’t need to be said. Again and again, just like always. How they looked to each other always felt like this - comforting, familiar, a warm weight in their stomachs. Yet, with hearts pounding and fluttering in their chests, it was riveting. Something special to be treasured despite how they basked in each other day-by-day. 

Kourai leant down and Sachirou met him for a kiss. 

“Don’t you need to stretch?” 

“Yeah, yeah - I was getting to it, alright?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaahhhh I’ve been wanting to write hiruhoshi for such a long time!!! One day I’d really like to write a more plot-based-things-actually-happen fic with them, but for now I’m satisfied!! 
> 
> Kudos+comments super appreciated!!!
> 
> find me on tskhnlovebot @ twt!


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